Stones of Agony
Funny how the plans for a day can change completely, due to a tiny pebble. A stone, if you will. The sort that form in our internals and then cause grief trying to get out.
I’d started thing, early, with a community meeting. Figured that the rest of the day would be Vacation 101. Not so fast there, friend. Back home, I met someone doing the walk of pain in the kitchen, with the word “blood” to convince me this might be more than a moment of discomfort.
Without discussion, we notified our company that we were otherwise engaged for the next few hours, and then I started that long drive to the city. At somewhere north of the posted limits, to be sure. Took about the regular time, but I blame that on some construction halts that left us waiting very impatiently. At the hospital, I parked haphazardly, and we headed inside. When my license plate was called on the intercom of shame, I simply pretended to be someone else. Priorities.
Amazing what a nurse with a cart full of meds can do for discomfort. Within minutes, calm was restored (enough for me to go and repark the offending automobile without recourse to a tow service). After something identified on the wall sign as a CT, the presence of a kidney stone or two was confirmed, and we then waited several hours for a proper discharge.
I’m a veteran of the tiny Stones of Agony, but my better half had only third-hand information. Until today. I think she’s now a believer.
